


I Carried You for Aching

by beriallen



Category: Crash Landing on You
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, In Denial, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, Post-Canon Fix-It, denying canon, the writer can suck my dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beriallen/pseuds/beriallen
Summary: It wasn’t until Gu Seung-jun came to pick her up on that one rainy day that Seo Dan finally realized-- He was the first person to come to her rescue.A character study on Seo Dan and a fix-it fic.
Relationships: Ri Jeong-hyeok/Seo Dan, Seo Dan/Gu Seung-jun
Comments: 32
Kudos: 192





	I Carried You for Aching

**Author's Note:**

> Includes references to Episodes 2, 9, 11, 15 and 16.

It was her last night in Switzerland, and Dan asked Jeong-hyeok a question. 

She was to leave for Pyongyang in the morning. Her suitcases had been precisely packed, and tucked securely inside one of them was a toiletry bag made out of plastic, filled with the hotel’s bathroom amenities. Her mother had told her to bring them home for “market research” purposes, and Dan winced as she removed the small bottles that were laid out on the bathroom sink; an act she had likened to shoplifting. She buried the toiletry bag under her jackets so she could pretend they didn’t really exist, at least until her mother asked for them. 

Her mother. 

The person who shipped her all the way to Switzerland in the first place. Well, not that she didn’t want to be here. She had been informed that this was her last chance to be with Jeong-hyeok before she left to Russia. The day before her flight, she paid a visit to Jeong-hyeok's parents, who slipped an envelope of cash into her hand and told her to eat only delicious food with their son. On her first day in the country, Jeong-hyeok took her out for lunch at his campus cafeteria. 

"The food’s good—,” he mumbled, trailing off. At least he sounded apologetic. 

Dan straightened her shoulders and looked up at Jeong-hyeok, pulling the corners of her mouth into a smile. “In exchange, you must let me take you out for dinner,” she said. “Not here.” 

He, of course, complied. 

Dan made a reservation at the nicest restaurant she could find (the Michelin-starred ones were all fully-booked and for once, she didn’t know whom to call to make a complaint about the situation. It was quite a slap of reality for her, realizing that there was a limit to her family’s influence. Dan took it as a learning experience; she would have to survive on her own in Russia soon). The dinner was set for the night before her departure, as an attempt to make it more memorable, both for herself and most importantly him. 

The question she was about to throw at him was, too, something she hoped he would remember for a long time; something she hoped would remind him of her while she was away. A friend back home had advised her to initiate personal and deep conversations to strengthen emotional bonds. 

She waited until dessert, when they were already full and Jeong-hyeok was finally relaxed enough to slouch in his seat as he gently scraped off a small chunk of his ice cream with his spoon, before she asked. 

Her last Hail Mary pass. 

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever done?” she started. Then one more. “Your proudest moment?” 

She had been practicing all afternoon, yet couldn’t choose one between the two versions, ending up deciding to just use both. 

Jeong-hyeok stopped moving his hand at that. In fact, his whole being seemed to come to a pause. Dan had always noticed that he had a tendency to mull over his own thoughts, and she watched as creases formed slowly on his forehead. Sometime in the future she would realize that he had already had an answer in mind, and the only reason it took him a while to talk was because he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it with her, the woman he deemed a stranger. That night, though, she mistook his silence for him needing more time to think, and she stirred her coffee for a lack of anything better to do. 

“I think I saved someone’s life.” 

It wasn’t just the fact that his response finally came without warning that surprised her. But there was a lilt in Jeong-hyeok's voice that was so unrecognizable, that for one short second, she mistook it for the sound of her teaspoon clanking against the ceramic cup. She put the spoon on the saucer, then, and glared at the way her coffee swirled clockwise. She borrowed her cues from Jeong-hyeok himself, and let him wait as she took her time to reply. 

Dan wrapped her palms around the warm cup before cocking her head, catching sight of one of his dimples as she did so. “Yes?” 

Jeong-hyeok had forgotten about his dessert. “The other day,” he continued afterward. His eyes roamed over the room, as if a playback of his memory from a particular day was showing on a screen that was only privy to him. “On the bridge. I think that woman was about to jump off the bridge. But I saved her. I didn’t even— I never read anything about how to help someone with that problem, but I guess it was some kind of an instinct. So I just came up to her and started talking to her, and I think I saved her. I mean, I hope.” 

To be completely honest, Dan barely listened to any of his words after his mention of a woman. 

But Jeong-hyeok hadn’t finished, apparently. “Oh,” he cried out all of a sudden. His eyes widened as he finally focused on her. “You were there too.” 

Dan’s hands tightened around her coffee cup. 

“You fool,” she thought. “You absolute fool.” 

“I believe we knew each other.” 

There was more to those words than what she told Gu Seung-jun on that drunken night at the hotel bar. 

“I believe Jeong-hyeok and I knew each other.” 

Similarly, that was what Dan said when her mother asked her why she wished to be engaged to him. Her mother, satisfied of the Ris’ political prowess and relieved that Dan had tactfully set her eyes on the “artistic” second son, never drilled her with follow-up questions. 

But there was always more to those words than her (wrongly) assuming that Jeong-hyeok had remembered her as his schoolmate. To “believe” that they “knew each other” also stood for something else, although she didn’t know what it was until she came to Russia and walked along the gilded halls of the Orthodox churches. She was not one to have faith in a higher being, but witnessing the congregations as they united in prayers had made her realize that the emotion she had been feeling toward Jeong-hyeok was something akin to hope. Just like the worshippers who chanted and whispered to someone they couldn’t see nor hear, she wanted to believe that she wasn’t alone in this world. That she was not unsavable. 

Granted, the cynic in her had also referred to it as “blind faith” and sneered at the fact that she had been moved by religious people. But at least, unlike their god, Jeong-hyeok was real. 

The way her heart skipped a beat when she first saw him on their school’s basketball court was real too. It was a physical attraction that later grew into teenage obsession, prompting her to spend her winter holiday tailing after her uncle, the only person she knew could provide her with information. 

Her uncle told her about Jeong-hyeok's father, the uncompromising figure of authority whose presence loomed over the whole family. Then there was the quiet mother who seemed to not know what to say, now that she no longer had a movie script to hold on to. She heard tales about the older brother, too kind for his own good. She would imagine Jeong-hyeok huddling in front of his piano, making himself as small as possible while his father tried to browbeat him into joining the military. 

And she would think about how much he would understand about what it felt like for someone like her, to be at the receiving end of her family’s expectations. Someone like her, who overheard the neighborhood ladies murmuring about her mother who yapped too much, who drove her husband to death with all her incessant talking, who was too Western, who was too South-like. Dan remembered everything that was said and promised herself to grow up to be the complete opposite. Then she would fantasize about her and Jeong-hyeok together, hiding themselves away, sharing secrets and burdens that they would never tell anybody else. And she could almost picture herself, happy. 

She had to wait years before her mother and Jeong-hyeok's parents finally agreed to the engagement. But no sooner had it happened, than he did this, boasting about saving an unknown woman. 

His words rang in her ears. “I think I saved someone’s life.” 

And all she could think about was how dumb he was. “You fool. You absolute fool,” she thought. “You could have saved me.” 

Sure, it wasn’t entirely Jeong-hyeok's fault. To be fair, she hadn’t exactly been vocal about whatever it was she expected of him. While Dan was used to asking for, and being given, a favor, she had never really learned how to call for help; not out loud, at least. 

There was a difference in asking for a favor and requesting to be saved. A favor was, for example, her reaching out to a rejected suitor (she always kept him at arm’s length, just in case) and being granted the access to his family’s hotel’s supposedly confidential guest list to track down her fiancé and another woman. 

Meanwhile, her idea of seeking help was her standing in a room alone with Jeong-hyeok, staring at him dead in the eye, wishing that he would magically understand what she never got to tell him. 

It wasn’t until Gu Seung-jun came to pick her up on that one rainy day and mentioned it matter-of-factly that she came to the realization— 

“I think I just saved you,” he pointed out, as he drove his car. 

—He was the first person to come to her rescue. 

“Stop the bullshit,” she snapped. 

She probably said it more to herself than him. 

She didn’t leave Gu Seung-jun alone in Jeong-hyeok's house until late into the night. 

Dan told Seung-jun that her eyes felt heavy after crying so much, and she couldn’t drive back home just yet. She showed him around the house she had never been in before. She reminded him to not be loud, even though she knew he was smart enough to realize that already. She went in and out of rooms to search for extra blankets because he could not start a fire to warm himself. She made sure he remembered where to find more candles although she already let him know earlier when she just arrived. 

But she knew those were just excuses to stay, and now she was out of them. And Seung-jun must have known, because he suddenly gave her another. “Don’t go,” he spoke in a hushed tone, “at least until this last candle burns out.” 

He took her silence as consent, and he was right about it. 

Seung-jun grabbed the candle on the low desk in the living room, the only one still burning, with his left hand. He turned toward her, then; the candle flame cast a shadow over his face, and Dan told herself that she was only staring so her eyes could adapt to the darkness. There was a hint of hesitation that passed across his expression, before he stretched out his empty hand to reach her left one. Even in the dim light, their hands met halfway without difficulty. 

Dan let him lead her toward Jeong-hyeok's bedroom, where a single bed sat in the corner. Seung-jun put the candle on the bedside table and took off his shoes, letting go of her hand in the process. Dan followed suit. 

It was a cold night, and they kept their coats on as they climbed onto the bed. He chose the part of the mattress that was nearer to the wall and lay sideways as Dan rested her body next to him. She turned to her side as soon as she was settled, and was not a bit surprised when she caught him already looking at her. 

“Thank you,” he whispered suddenly, and the warm breath from his mouth brushed against the tip of her nose. 

On other occasions, she would have listed her head just slightly and blinked once before replying with something spiteful. But this was not like any other occasions, and all she could do was swallow. 

“For always saving me,” he continued. 

Dan gave a careful shrug. “You—” she started, her voice breaking. She coughed to clear her throat, and resumed, “You saved me first, from my friends at the restaurant. You were there for me when I called for you.” 

Seung-jun gave a stifled chuckle at that. “Only because I wanted something for you,” he argued. “I needed a place to say.” 

Dan opened her mouth to murmur a protest—because it didn’t feel like he was taking advantage of her back then—but he still had more things to tell her. “But you,” he went on, faintly, and she scooted just a little closer to him. “You saved me when I was sick and hungry. You saved me when I was lonely. You even tried to save me without you knowing it.” He must have noticed the frown between her brows, because he added, “You thought I was going to jump from the rooftop, and you told me to go to a taller building.” 

The dark was slowly taking over the light coming from the ever-diminishing candle, yet Dan could still spot the ends of his lips turning upward, as if the memory of their past meetings had made him smile. Her gaze remained, right there on his mouth, when she asked no one in particular, “Why hasn't anyone saved me?”

The sheets under them rustled as he moved around. They had been sharing one pillow, and now his face was suddenly so close, that instinct made her glance away. 

“Seo Dan-ssi.” There was sternness in his low voice that compelled her eyes to stop wandering and her breath to catch. Dan had never felt so cowardly and so brave at the same time as she finally returned his stare again. “You’re perfect,” he said, then. “You don’t need saving.” 

She could sense her pupils dilating, and perhaps it was because of the low light, or maybe it was the warmth that flowed between their bodies. The flickering flame must have played games with her mind, because she believed she could see herself mirrored in his widening eyes, as clear as broad daylight. She blamed the cold as she slid even closer toward him, and the front of her coat nudged against one of his hands. 

“Sometimes perfect people need saving too,” she sighed. 

In the engulfing darkness, the sound he made as he took a long, deep breath seemed to echo throughout the room. “When they do,” he replied, so softly, “I’ll come find them.” 

Her hand traveled across the sheets until it discovered his. “Or I’ll come find you.” 

Dan held his hand in hers until the candle burned out. 

Dan bought two one-way tickets; one to Switzerland, another to somewhere else. 

She got Jeong-hyeok's overseas number from her uncle, and contacted him immediately as soon as she landed in Switzerland, asking him to meet at the bridge. Jeong-hyeok was always going on and on about fate or whatnot, so let this be another fateful encounter for him—and her too. 

She thought of her hotel room as she waited for him. She only had one small suitcase with her; she would only stay for one night before she had to fly to another city. She thought of the complimentary soap and shampoo in her hotel bathroom. For the past three years or so, she had been coming in and going out of hotels in England to prepare for this moment, and the sight of the bathroom amenities had always reminded her of her mother. When Dan revealed the truth and her decision, her mother only tucked her hair behind her ear and offered a tender smile. “I think I’ve always known,” her mother told her. “I said I will be with you in sad times. That means, I will also be with you in happy times.” Dan made a mental note to bring the amenities with her when she checked out of the hotel the next morning. 

Jeong-hyeok appeared not long after, all alone. When he was close enough and saw the questioning scowl on her face, Jeong-hyeok grinned sheepishly and explained, “Seri thinks it’s better if we meet up alone.” 

Dan rolled her eyes. “The one time I actually need to talk to her, and she doesn't come,” she scoffed. 

“She doesn’t want to—” 

“I don’t care,” Dan exclaimed, cutting him off short. 

Funnily, Jeong-hyeok laughed at that. “So," he snorted, after some time, "what is it you want to tell her? You can tell me.” 

Dan gulped the air before speaking, as if bracing herself. She had been anticipating this day since she received that life-changing phone call from Jeong-hyeok's father. When she wasn’t organizing things together with the Ris (Jeong-hyeok's mother had been helping her a lot as well), or when she wasn’t home-hunting with her mother or using her uncle’s influence to get bureaucratic leeway or working things out with the British Embassy, she would stop and wonder about farewells. She was never a sentimental person, but she wanted to have a clean start, and an article she read once in a contraband magazine wrote that it was important to bid goodbye to her past to do that. It was part of the reason she asked Jeong-hyeok to meet here, on this very bridge, where it all began. 

Dan let out a breath. “I believe Yoon Seri is now fully aware of her family’s involvement in the embezzlement case committed against Gu Seung-jun's father,” she began. “I expect her to pardon him for stealing from her brother and allow him to keep the money.” 

Jeong-hyeok nodded. “Yes. Of course! She's talked about this. It shouldn’t be a problem.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again when no word came out. He was suddenly fidgeting around too, pursing his lips and scratching at his hair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, after a while. “Back then, when you came to my house all those years ago, I didn’t know anything. I was told that he didn’t want my father to say anything to anyone, especially to you, in case the plan didn’t work. My father was worried too, and that’s why it took so long for him to tell you.” 

“Oh, I want to talk to you about that,” Dan said. “I want to thank you.” 

Jeong-hyeok shook his head at that. “No, no. _He_ was the one who called my father before the whole thing with you and the gangsters happened! And it was my father who arranged for the ambulance, dealt with the hospital and got him out of Pyongyang safely without the State Department knowing. All I did was give him my father’s number; _he_ was the one who plotted the whole thing .” 

“Yes, you’re pretty useless,” she quipped, and Jeong-hyeok burst out laughing again. Despite herself, she smiled. 

“Seems like you’re doing pretty amazing,” he noted, when the laughter died down. “And I heard you even got a job at an orchestra!” 

Dan blinked. “Yes,” she said. “Turns out I don’t need you to save me.” 

Jeong-hyeok furrowed his brows, visibly confused. He hummed a little, like he was considering how to react. In the end, he seemed to think better of it, and whatever it was he was pondering, he kept it inside the same way he inserted his hands into the pockets of his pants. 

They grew quiet afterward and it became obvious that none of them had other things to share, and the air hung heavy all of a sudden. Dan was suddenly reminded of her empty room back home. She remembered her belongings—a cello and its case included—that had been shipped from Pyongyang to her next destination, and hoped that they would arrive as scheduled. In front of her, Jeong-hyeok shifted his weight from one leg to another and started rambling about dinner. She saved him from a potential awkward situation by informing him that she had to return to her hotel, because she had an early flight in the morning. 

“Excited to finally be with him, huh?” 

Like a habit, Dan brushed her thumb against the ring on her left ring finger. She would miss doing it; she would have to remove this ring soon. And frankly, she couldn’t wait. A newer, different ring was waiting for her as she spoke. It felt like forever for her to get here, but here she was. 

When Jeong-hyeok brought up dinner earlier, all Dan could think about was this time the next afternoon. It would be the time when she would finally have her first dinner at her new home with Gu Seung-jun. She even knew what she wanted to eat already (it was _ramyeon_ ). 

“Sorry I can’t remember,” Jeong-hyeok asked suddenly, breaking into her train of thought. “Where will you and Gu Seung-jun be living, again?” 

Dan could feel herself beaming as she answered him. 

“London.” 

End. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. If I'm not mistaken, according to AP, North Korean names are written without hyphens, and South Korean names are written with them. So it should be Ri Jeong Hyeok and Gu Seung-jun, but I just use hyphens in all the names to not make it confusing.
> 
> 2\. I had a little trouble figuring out Ri Jeong-hyeok and Seo Dan's timeline pre-drama, because seems like [the writer was a bit confused too](https://beri-allen.tumblr.com/post/190367906606/help-is-it-just-my-pea-sized-brain-or-did).
> 
> 3\. Is it possible for Dan to find work outside North Korea? Not if this fic is set in the present time. To write this fic, I did a little research, and found out that the UN has sanctioned North Korea and banned the citizens from working overseas. But who knows? Maybe the ban will be lifted in a few years. And my research also told me that there are rare cases of North Koreans marrying foreigners and living abroad. In conclusion, is this fic possible? Well, I don't know, lol. And honestly, since the drama that inspires this doesn't make any sense either, I kind of decided to just "F**k it!" But I hope this is at least believable.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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